


Brother Tell Me

by TheIllusiveMantis



Category: Dangan Ronpa
Genre: Accidental dubcon, Angst, Dubious Consent, Flashbacks, M/M, Pre-Despair, Unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 09:03:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3061958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheIllusiveMantis/pseuds/TheIllusiveMantis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No amount of remembered advice from Daiya could have prepared Mondo for this particular agony.  (What he wants is beyond what Ishimaru has to give.)</p><p>[Unrequited ishimondo, dubcon without malicious intent, angst]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brother Tell Me

**Author's Note:**

> Was sitting on my computer 99% finished like several other DR fics I wrote last year, so decided to finish and post. I'm thinking of doing the same to some others as well in case someone might enjoy reading them. PLEASE NOTE that this fic includes scenes with loose mentions to dubious consent (although there is no malicious intent from the characters involved). Also thank you dearly to everyone who read and enjoyed A Portrait of Hope and left me encouraging comments. 
> 
> Fic takes place pre-despair, or possibly in a non-despair universe. (there's plenty of despair already. In case it's not clear yet this is really not a fluffy feel-good fic and will probably be hard to read)

* * *

 

Mondo's first look at a truly beautiful woman is when he is 12 years old.

 

Maybe it's the way she seems so comfortable with his brother, sitting on the back of his motorcycle seat, smoking a cigarette and hanging her arms loosely around Daiya's middle. Definitely a part of it is her waist-length hair and black leather boots.

 

Mondo is full of ideas for what his brother intends to do. Confront a rival gang, he thinks. Ride right out to where the action is, so the beautiful Miss Kanekawa can see his smooth moves firsthand.

 

Daiya rides back in the middle of the night, and a babbling Mondo _has_ to know what sort of trouble they'd gotten themselves into.

 

“No trouble, little bro.” Daiya says, and explains an important fact.

 

 _Being a man isn't about showing off,_ he says. _It's about knowing when to behave yourself for the sake of the lovely creature in your backseat._

 

Mondo pretends to understand, but he knew if it were up to him, he'd be right in the middle of things anyway.

 

He just wouldn't _let_ any harm come to the woman next to him.

 

* * *

 

 

Years later is when Daiya actually puts this principle into words easy enough for Mondo to remember. "Protect the weak," he said, and by _the weak_ he meant girls and women.

 

Being strong is nothing, he'd said, until you can use it to help the people around you, who can't defend themselves.

 

So naturally, when he witnessed small, helpless little Fujisaki Chihiro getting taunted by boys from a neighboring school, he gave them a taste of Daiya's lesson for themselves.

 

It's totally predictable that this lands him in the principal's office.

 

The apprehending party is none other than Super High School Level Hall Monitor Ishimaru Kiyotaka, who surveys the extent of the damage (two of the boys are lying on the ground; one is short a couple teeth) with a pursed lip and pinched brows. Mondo doesn't try to hide what he's done. “Bastards got what was coming to them,” is the only explanation he gives, expecting, but not enjoying, the familiar look of disdain on his classmate's face.

 

“Then so shall you!! Remember that justice follows everyone!!”

 

Apparently, though, Fujisaki gives Ishimaru the full story later, and now the class pain in the ass has become his _personal_ pain in the ass. Ishimaru has taken a special interest in him, constantly dogging him with questions.

 

“But why do you wait around for incidents like the one befalling Fujisaki-san? Why a guy like you, part of a delinquent group!” Which is about the least cool term anyone's ever used for a motorcycle gang, and besides, Mondo just happened to be at the right place at the right time.

 

He predicts saying this will not shut Ishimaru up. He hopes “Fuck off!” will.

 

Ishimaru does _not_ fuck off. He trails him like a shadow. Mondo's so angry he could punch someone.

 

Good thing Ishimaru isn't weak, or a girl. The punch lands with a momentarily satisfying _smack_.

 

* * *

 

 

_If someone declares war, you go in guns blazing. Give them a show. Don't compromise yourself. Make them feel the pain of crossing you._

 

Mondo throws out every curse he can think of, but it doesn't make him feel any better. Any more justified.

 

He apologizes, mentally, to Daiya, but there's something in him that can't treat Ishimaru Kiyotaka like an enemy.

 

He'd expected all sorts of disciplinary action for giving the annoying bastard a bloody nose and a bruised lip. Detention, at the very least. Community service. Expulsion wasn't out of the question, not where the school's favorites were concerned. That was usually how that kind of thing worked.

 

All the quirky little weirdo had done was slowly touch his swollen lip and stare at him, and all the rage had gone out like a light in Mondo's heart. Goddammit. It'd been much easier to live _with_ it.

 

Daiya had said a thing or two about forgiveness, too. Not much, mostly that you shouldn't, unless someone was your sworn kyoudai, but Mondo was playing it by ear. Daiya wasn't around anymore. Mondo had to carve his own path.

 

He'd meant to say something like “we're square.” _Hey, I'm not going to make your life miserable_.

 

Instead,

 

“Hey, I'm sorry.”

 

It comes out, in those exact words, and somehow they sound forceful and angry. That wasn't what he meant either. Ishimaru had obviously intended to just shuffle past him as quickly as possible, but now he stood and openly stared, and Mondo was uncomfortable again.

 

“It was nothing...!” Ishimaru says in response, after a few beats. “It was not forthcoming of me to question your moral code! ...Which is the sort of thing a man should hone on his own, and not be pestered about!!”

 

Which is about the most sensible thing Mondo thinks he's ever heard him say.

 

The first of many, as it turns out.

 

* * *

 

 

Treat your friends with the utmost loyalty, Daiya had said, and you'll get the same in turn. Loyalty, he stressed, was _everything_.

 

Mondo thinks that somehow or another, his “loyalty” had crossed a line somewhere. And he hadn't even noticed it.

 

It must have happened sometime during the last year of laughing together, challenging each other, and the occasional quiet admission, when they were alone, about something from the past. How easily words came forth from time to time to his own mouth, when they'd been locked up so tight before. It always blew him away.

 

 _This_ wouldn't be so easy.

 

He's sitting in his room, thumbing through some magazines, burning a hole straight through the pictures with his eyes, as if dedicating a sole hour of his time to staring at big-breasted women was going to somehow satisfy the problem he was having. At a punctual 7:45 on the dot comes the first knock.

 

When Ishimaru sits beside Mondo on his bed with perfect protocol, Mondo says fuck-it to his shitty pretense. Everything comes out at once.

 

“I really like you, hey, a lot, okay? So...So we gotta date now, ok, I mean, is that okay with you?” Ishimaru's face is frozen in an expression of shock, his pupils trembling and his mouth slightly open, and he's not saying anything, and Mondo can't endure one more minute. He acts on instinct and impulse, drawing the other boy into him with grabbing hands and pressing his mouth over Ishimaru's lips. The motion is shaky, but forceful, and after some seconds of this he can feel the presence of light fingertips on his back, above the waistline of his pants.

 

Mondo takes this for reciprocation and before long he's anxiously pushing Ishimaru back into the bed, settling his weight on top of him, trying not to think about how he imagined the other to be more of an eager kisser. This was real. This was _better_.

 

The buttons on Ishimaru's uniform are pressing uncomfortably against Mondo's chest, so Mondo reaches between them and his fingers are trembling, he's burning as he yanks the two folds of the shirt apart, and hears a clang as a button hits the floor and rolls away somewhere.

 

Something feels wrong, as he pushes his hand in a line down Ishimaru's chest. It's wrong as he roughly gropes him through his uniform trousers and doesn't find the response he was expecting. It's wrong, wrong, all wrong, and when he dares to open his eyes to look at Ishimaru's face-

 

what he sees is _terror_.

 

Just like before, everything in his heart goes out like a light. He's retreating from the bed so fast it's giving him whiplash, and that's with himhaving lived half his life in the seat. Disgust and shame are not strange emotions to him, but he hasn't felt them so keenly since-

 

since-

 

Not since _Daiya_ and the expletive that erupts from his lips probably breaks the soundproofing in the dorms, and Mondo can't apologize, not like he did so easily before. He swings on his coat and sweeps out of the room.

 

By the time he returns that night, after pacing endlessly up and down the perimeter of the school and pausing occasionally to kick a wall, then sitting on the stairwell no one else knew about and watching as the stars came up, and then finally deciding to be a man and brave the inside of that room again, Ishimaru is gone.

 

And Mondo's bed has been made.

 

* * *

 

 

“A gang leader should never ask forgiveness.

 

Firstly, don't do anything that _needs_ forgiveness, little bro. Don't fuck over the people who respect you, who trust you.

 

If you have to say sorry, do it in gestures.

 

Never with words, little brother.

 

Words are for the weak.”

 

* * *

 

 

Mondo hasn't been to class in three days, or to the cafeteria, and for a while he subsists on the food he has stashed under his bed. The dorms at Hope's Peak insist on a strict no-food policy, but he got here on the “top-level delinquent” ticket and that's how he intends to ride out the rest of his years here.

 

It's only when the knocking at his door persists for three solid minutes that he decides he can't just sit there and wait it out.

 

“Kyoudai!” It's Ishimaru (of course it is, who else would knock at his door for three grating minutes?), but it's actually him, he's back, and he's looking at him with that familiar mix of indignation and barely-hidden enthusiasm. Everything about his demeanor is absolutely so familiar. He's acting like nothing ever happened. Like nothing- “It has been three days since you last attended your scheduled classes! Is something the matter?”

 

Mondo opens his mouth, because everything feels so _normal_ , but he can't get words out. There's so much he wants to say, and so much he absolutely can't. He wants to scare him away. He wants to drag him inside. He wants to reply noncommittally, and above all, he wants to demand why he's treating him this way.

 

Ishimaru notes his silence, and glances past him into his room. “Unless it is imposing, I don't suppose I could-?!”

 

Mondo simply stands to one side and lets him pass inside, meek as can be.

 

Ishimaru seems to hesitate for a beat. He waits until Mondo closes the door to begin speaking. “I thought about our situation from the other day!”

 

Mondo's throat is dry. _I'm sorry, kyoudai. I shouldn't have done that. Hey, it's okay if you don't want to be that way with me. “_ Yeah?”

 

“Namely, your admission that you desired to have relations with me.”

 

“I-I wouldn't use that _word_ , but!”

 

The words sound almost angry again, but Ishimaru doesn't seem disturbed. “I think we should give it a try, kyoudai.”

 

The world is spinning around him. Mondo blinks to clear the vertigo. “Really? You mean it?”

 

“Absolutely!” Mondo's disbelief becomes more and more tangible as he sees Ishimaru already shedding his brown blazer, and getting started on his shirt. All the buttons are perfectly in place – either it's another shirt, or he's patched up the old one that Mondo damaged the other day. “It is important that we are upfront with each other!”

 

Mondo watches him with barely-hidden intentions. “That's awesome. I mean, good.” He doesn't trust the happiness and the relief that he feels. He isn't familiar with the taste of them. The hunger is building up in him now as Ishimaru willingly bares himself to him, and he decides to trust in that.

 

The shirt comes off. Mondo mirrors the action in one broad stroke; he doesn't really know what he's doing, because the truth is, he's never done this before with anyone. He delivers crushing kisses against Ishimaru's mouth, then down to his neck, attacking his skin with his teeth and tongue urgently as if he's got too much ground to cover and not enough time. His arm wanders Ishimaru's body; under his trousers he's limp like before, so Mondo touches him and works at him until Ishimaru is breathing raggedly against his neck. He continues until he can't ignore the strain in his own pants anymore.

 

* * *

 

The ruffled-up sheets part for him as he collapses. Mondo listens to their breathing as it settles, and glances to the body beside him. Ishimaru's face is flushed, his eyes half-lidded, and for a moment, his gaze lacks the intense focus it usually has, and Mondo thinks it's the greatest sight he's ever seen. Then Ishimaru sees him watching.

 

“That was an invigorating experience,” he says, after a moment, words punctuated with formality. Mondo is just beginning to cook up a thought of reaching up a hand and touching his cheek, which is red and glimmering with sweat; after what's just happened, this action shouldn't cause his heart to pound so furiously. In the second before he can act, Ishimaru stands up from the bed.

 

It's such a swift motion. It's probably how Ishimaru gets out of bed every morning. The pleasant haze is clearing quickly now from Mondo's brain and he kicks back a sheet. In that time, Ishimaru's already picked some of the clutter off Mondo's floor and straightened his books.

 

“We shall have to do that again sometime!”

 

“Yeah.” For some reason, it's the only word he can manage right now.

 

“I am glad I could assist my kyoudai with his natural urges!”

 

“Yeah.” This time the word echoes emptily in the room.

 

“We should get lunch in the cafeteria to rebuild our strength!”

 

Mondo had been living off of chips for days. The thought of food should have tempted him. He feels like he's going to be sick.“You go. Maybe I'll join ya later.”

 

“Not right away! I think I will have to ask for the use of your shower first, kyoudai!”

 

For a while, Mondo listens to the sounds of the running water and tries to tune out everything else. He paces to avoid the bed. He hadn't noticed at the time that he'd been the only one to reach climax.

 

Ishimaru's clothes are still folded neatly on the floor at the foot of the bed. He supposes he should have figured. In Mondo's vivid, hormonal imagination they had been strewn across the room in their mutual haste to get them off. In Mondo's imagination a lot of things had been different.

 

The sting he feels is unfamiliar, but he feels it in his heart and his pounding skull and the corners of his eyes.

 

* * *

 

 

Daiya had had many lovely creatures riding pillion behind him over the years, and though they'd shared many smiles Mondo never asked if any of them were _permanent_.

 

A woman was the same as an exciting new paint job: to be kept around as long as they kept turning heads. That was the message, at least, that the members of his gang seemed to endorse.

 

Mondo had never realized until now that he'd been saving a seat.

 

* * *

 

 

Ishimaru is able to move right on from their experience, like it's another trip to the sauna or the video store or to the weight room. It's only when they end up alone again in Mondo's room that Ishimaru's hands move robotically to his collar again. Mondo doesn't let him start, this time.

 

“What are you doing?” he demands, catching his wrist, dreading the response. Ishimaru pales a bit, and the response he gives seems to take a moment of consideration.

 

“...We are spending time together,” Ishimaru finally says, sounding deeply, truly confused.

 

Mondo makes up his mind.

 

“No. We're not gonna... We can't...”

 

Ishimaru looks hurt, and Mondo hates the entire situation all the more. “Is it... not pleasurable, for you?" He's obviously straining, trying to keep the bewilderment out of his voice.

 

Mondo doesn't think he can answer that question because there's still a part of him that wants him regardless of whether or not Ishimaru wants him back. Instead he decides to explain.

 

"I _like_ you," he mutters, instead, and his hands are shaking but this time he doesn't stammer. “In a way that's more than... just _that_.”

 

When an excruciating moment has crawled by, Mondo takes another step into this terrifying new territory. "Well?" he accidentally demands, his anxiety making him brusque again. "How do you... feel about me?"

 

Ishimaru doesn't stop gazing up at Mondo as he slowly replies. "You are more than just my friend, Oowada-kun."

 

Mondo breathes as he hears those words. "Sworn kyoudai," Ishimaru murmurs, seeming entranced by the words. "The deepest pure bond between men...!"

 

Mondo cries right there, like a baby, as Ishimaru stares, seeing, not comprehending.

 

* * *

_Demand honesty from everyone. It's man's greatest virtue._

 

Daiya had been covered in another man's blood at the time.

 

* * *

 

 

It's been three weeks. Mondo doesn't ordinarily keep track of time, it usually feels like something that slips away from him, but every day has been a grinding push.

 

Things really and truly have gone back to normal, in every way, at least on the outside: with their classmates and friends and also in private. Though they aren't alone together very much anymore.

 

They laugh together, same as they always have. And Mondo still can't resist declaring a challenge for the whole class to hear, and he still sees Ishimaru's blood get hot when he smells a chance to prove himself. None of their classmates- and they have some _nosy_ little shits among them- give any sign that they've noticed anything strange in their interactions. (Mondo thinks he's probably imagining that Kirigiri's stare is in any way more thoughtful than usual, whenever he sees her looking at him.)

 

His gut still wrenches up in shame when he thinks of his last orchestrated "confession". So, the next scene happens at the most dissimilar possible time.

 

It's between classes. Hagakure has only just slipped out of sight. Mondo begins.

 

"I am really fucking sorry," he says, sincerely, and the words feel, and sound, like they've chewed up his insides on their way out. He doesn't let the confusion materialize on Ishimaru's face because he can't handle another blank stare. "...I fucked up what we had... like some sick pervert. I promise, I'll never betray your trust again! Please kyoudai, just say you forgive me."

 

"...You've done nothing to forgive, kyoudai," Ishimaru says. "Or anyway, we were both at fault... for misconduct." His voice had trailed off somewhat.

 

"Can you just be honest with me for one minute??" Mondo barks. "All I want is your forgiveness! I... really did something I shouldn't have! Can't you stop babyin' me, pretending like nothing happened?!"

 

“It is I who should ask for your forgiveness, kyoudai,” Ishimaru surprises him, and his brow is deeply furrowed and there might be the beginnings of tears in the corners of his eyes, oh lovin' _hell_. “I was not upfront.”

 

“Q-quit apologizin'! _Fuck_ -”

 

“Then I will have to request that you also not ask my forgiveness.”

 

They had caused a proper scene now with this ridiculous exchange, and there might be a couple people at the end of the hall and they might even be watching them. Ishimaru keeps talking.

 

“I desired only to be everything you wished of me,” he explains. “...But I caused you more grief than if I had been honest. The fault is all mine!”

 

He bows so low in such a grandiose, final apology that Mondo has no choice but to accept it. “It's fine,” he grumbles, moving a hand to cover his embarrassed blush, and his heart hurts properly now and it's _agony_ but it's still so much better than that excruciating limbo from before. This is the right kind of pain, the kind that maybe can heal, one day.

 

Ishimaru finally straightens himself out, and he looks at Mondo earnestly. “I wish only the greatest of happiness for you, kyoudai.”

 

Mondo feels something wet making its way down his own cheek, but he forces a grin.

 

“Yeah... same to you, kyoudai.”

 

* * *

 

The last time- before the _last_ time- that Mondo had seen Daiya, he was surrounded by his (by _their_ ) admiring comrades, laughing and joking and talking girls and bikes and turf wars and Mondo looked forward to the day where he knew how to make it sound so natural like that.

 

Not that he didn't love all of it. At the time, he lived for it. At the time he...

 

Ishimaru is there waiting as they walk away from the grave. He gives Mondo a long look. Mondo waves him off, but moments later reaches for his hand. Without hesitating, Ishimaru returns the gesture with a grip tighter than his own.

 


End file.
